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Mr. Exec

Best Boy and I continued to spend more time together, and I appreciated the fact that he put the “friend” in “friend with benefits.” He checked in to see how I was feeling post-surgery and if I needed anything. He came over two to three times a week and let me be the guide as to whether or not I felt up to having sex post-surgery. He helped me out when I was recouping by walking my dog. And, when I had sex toys or condoms to review, he was always willing to lend a…hand.

When I described our relationship to my girlfriends, we all agreed:

Best Boy really was the BEST Boy!

A few girlfriends wondered if Best Boy and I could become more than friends with benefits. My answer was always the same:

No. We can't be anymore than that given that Mr. Exec [my ex-boyfriend] is like a brother to him. Plus, we haven't gone out on a date since that night with Mr. Exec at Ceiba. We're just friends who have sex.

Best Boy hadn’t initially informed Mr. Exec that we were sleeping together so it caught me a bit off-guard when the following conversation ensued:

Me: Depending on my treatment schedule, I might be helping out at The Gala. [The Gala was an annual political fundraiser, and I knew that I would see Mr. Exec at the event.] Mr. Exec still doesn’t know we’re hanging out, right?

Best Boy: No. I told him.

Me [trying not to stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth]: Really? How did that go?

Best Boy: Fine. He said he doesn’t care.

A control freak and narcissist like Mr. Exec always cares! I tried not to laugh out loud and chose to proceed nonchalantly.

Me: Oh. Well, that’s good. How did it come up?

Best Boy: I just didn’t feel comfortable keeping it from him so I told him that we had been together.

Me: Good. I’m happy that it doesn’t have to be a big deal.

What I Really Wanted To Say: Can you tell me every single detail so I can blog about it?

The topic turned to Best Boy’s upcoming trip to Los Angeles, and I mentioned that one of my close friends, D, lives out there.

Me: She’s brilliant, kind and gorgeous!

Best Boy: Really?

I pulled up a photo of her, and Best Boy nodded in approval.

Me: Want me to hook you guys up?

Best Boy: You would do that?

Me: Of course.

Best Boy: No, you wouldn’t.

Me [grabbing my phone]: I’m texting her now. [D and I text back and forth, and she says it’s fine for him to email her.] She won’t be in LA the whole time you’re there, but she says that she hopes to meet you.

Best Boy: You wouldn’t be cool with that, though, would you?

Me: As long as you tell me all about it! We’re friends. Sex is sex. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.

The following morning, Best Boy told me that he and D had become friends on Facebook and that he would be emailing her.

Me: Great! Seal the deal! [I laugh.]

Best Boy [pausing]: I didn’t expect you [pause] to be so cool.

Me [laughing]: Oh, you mean because of what went down with Mr. Exec? [He nods.] Your boy treated me horribly. I don’t aspire to be emotional or act psycho, but when someone keeps playing Jedi mind tricks on me, I can get that way. I’d much prefer to be relaxed and honest about everything. You and I work in this mode. There’s no need for drama.

Best Boy smiled and kissed me before heading off to work. I was really enjoying this friendship!

When Best Boy arrived at my place later in the evening, everything just felt easy and sweet. There was a lot of kissing and holding each other close. (After sleeping with guys like "Buckeyes" Boy and Mr. Exec, it was refreshing to be with someone who wasn’t so dominant in bed.) Best Boy was affectionate and romantic, and that was just what I needed five days after surgery.

Best Boy was caring and nurturing, as he made sure that I got the attention it deserved without putting pressure on my right breast. There wasn’t any of that awkwardness that can happen when you have sex with a friend, when it’s your first time with a partner, or when you’re somewhat limited as to the positions.

Afterward, Best Boy held me close or spooned me for most of the night. When morning came, so did we – again. I looked at him, smiled and said:

I’m really liking our friendship with benefits!

When Best Boy left an hour later, I realized something. I hadn’t thought of Mr. Exec the entire time. Mr. Exec happened to call the following day, but I couldn’t have cared less. My chapter with Mr. Exec was closed. But, a new chapter with Best Boy was only just beginning…

The weekend prior to my surgery, Mr. Agency and I had planned to get together. It was tough to coordinate our schedules, though, since his work frequently required him to attend late-night meetings and events. Mr. Agency suggested meeting at 10:00pm on Saturday night. I didn’t particularly want to go out that late so I asked if he just wanted to come over for a drink. (My friend, Autumn, was going to be staying the night, which helped to ensure that drinks wouldn't lead to more than that.)

When Mr. Agency arrived at my apartment, I remembered why I was attracted to him in the first place. His smile lit up the room, and his energy was contagious! I poured him a beer, and then we sat in my living room, chatting about every topic imaginable.

Talking to him was easy, and there weren’t any awkward pauses in the conversation. He was a sports fan like me, an only child and Christian. He also had family in New York City and enjoyed traveling. The more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know.

Mr. Agency could tell a story with perfect comedic timing, and he made me laugh out loud — a lot. When the clock struck midnight, he respectfully said that he should call it a night. I walked out with him to say goodbye. While we were in the driveway, Autumn arrived, and we all conversed for a few minutes. She headed upstairs so I could walk Mr. Agency to his car.

I had figured that Mr. Agency would try to kiss me. (This had been the third night that I had seen him, after all.) But, to my surprise, he didn’t! He just gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Before getting in his car, he said:

You’re awesome. I hope that we can do this again.

Me [smiling]: So do I.

I walked back to my place, thinking to myself how refreshing it was that a guy didn’t rush to make the first move. My friends had told me that Mr. Agency was a good guy, and they were right!

Mr. Agency checked in on me to see how the surgery went and ask if I needed anything. I thanked him and let him know that I was all set. I suggested that we get together the following week after I recouped, and he liked that idea.

When Best Boy called, he said:

I’m on 66, heading into the city. Since I’m close to your place, I wanted to see if you needed anything. If so, I can pick it up and drop it off.

Me: I’m good, but thanks for offering! I really appreciate it.

I heard from Mr. Agency and Best Boy in the same day (the day after Mr. Exec called) and thought to myself:

When the chips are down, you know who your friends are. Mr. Exec had promised to be there for me, but even though we had been sleeping together, he didn't follow through. Then, two guys who I had never even kissed offered to help me just because they are good guys. What kind of guy do I want to be with as I'm fighting cancer?

It was at that moment that I knew with 100% certainty that I would never be with Mr. Exec again. My “No Dickheads During Cancer” rule was in effect. I wasn't necessarily looking for a serious relationship during treatment, but it was (high) time that I let a caring guy into my life.

As my friend, T, and I arrived at Marvin, I caught her up on the latest with Mr. Exec and Best Boy. Although Mr. Exec and I had yet to have our final conversation, the writing was on the wall that we wouldn’t be spending more time together. In the midst of all the drama with Mr. Exec, I had somewhat surprisingly become friends with his best friend, Best Boy. We would meet for drinks on occasion, attended the same events, and communicated regularly via email and text.

Me: He’s the complete opposite of Mr. Exec. Everyone loves Best Boy because he’s such a great guy.

When Best Boy joined us at Marvin, the laughs and good conversation continued. There was a DJ and dancing by the back bar that night so in the midst of all the activity, T managed to subtly send me a text:

He’s cute!

Me: You think so?

T: Yes. Much cuter than Mr. Exec. You can tell he likes you.

Me: Likes me like that? Really? [She nods and smiles.]

(I hadn’t thought about the possibility of being more than friends with Best Boy since the night back in May when I had gone out on my fun, but bizarre, date with him and Mr. Exec. After our dinner, I chose to get back together with Mr. Exec, and Best Boy and I remained friends. And, yes, I appreciate that I might not have made the wisest choice.)

When we all finished our drinks at Marvin, I let Best Boy know that he could crash at my place. (He lived 45 minutes out of the city, and there was absolutely no way that he should’ve been driving.) Once we arrived at my apartment, I went to walk my dog, while Best Boy turned on the television.

By the time I returned, Best Boy had fallen asleep on the couch. He was fully clothed, and he had his body contorted in a position that would ensure that his neck was sore if he slept like that for more than 20 minutes. I got ready for bed and then woke Best Boy.

Me: Let’s go to bed.

When I said that, my plan was in fact to get some sleep. But, Best Boy had other ideas. He kissed me gently on the lips and pulled me in toward him. The evidence inside of his boxers indicated that Best Boy wasn’t so sleepy anymore!

Me: You started the poking [on Facebook]. Come on. We’re friends. After everything that’s gone on with Mr. Exec and me, we can’t be anything more than that.

Best Boy: You keep saying that, but you don’t act that way.

Me: It’s us. I was with your boy only a few weeks ago. You’re still hanging out with Melanie*.

Best Boy: True. But, you’ve gotten in my head.

Me [confused]: I have?

Best Boy: Of course you have. You and your games.

Lying there in the dark, I thought about what he said. I typically am not the one who plays games in a relationship. But, with Best Boy, maybe I had been doing that? He was the Good Guy to Mr. Exec’s Bad Boy. He was the guy I could text and meet for a drink whenever I wanted. He was the guy who was always good for a smile or a laugh. I saw him as a friend, but given how much of a flirt I am, had I been leading him on?

Me: I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’m sorry if I’ve been playing games with you, but I really just see us as friends. I have way too much history with Mr. Exec, and you guys are best friends! Even if we wanted something more, there’s no way that it could work.

I had hoped that we would just fall asleep, but Best Boy wasn’t of the same mindset. Much of the next hour was spent convincing him that I didn’t want to sleep with him. Best Boy respected the fact that I didn’t want to hook up with him, but he maintained that I should’ve left him on the couch so as not to torture him.

There was one point in the evening when Best Boy woke up and made another move on me.

Me [moving his hand away]: Let me sleep!

Best Boy [whispering in my ear]: If you just think of me as a friend, why are you turned on?

As I tried to fall asleep, I wondered the exact same thing. In the morning, we woke up, and Best Boy apologized for not letting me sleep much. I accepted his apology and kissed him on the cheek goodbye. It was a long, crazy night, but in the light of day, Best Boy and I were still just friends.

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.

After meeting Mr. Agency at the Masquerade Party, we became friends on Facebook. That led to an email exchange, and then we began texting each other.

Mr. Agency: Will you be heading to the event at the rooftop on Wednesday?

I hadn’t planned to go. But, I knew that two of my friends would be there and definitely wanted to see Mr. Agency. So, I decided to purchase a ticket and let him know that I would be attending.

That afternoon, I found myself smiling, as I looked at the photo of us that was taken only a few minutes after we met. In perusing one of Mr. Agency’s albums, I noticed two pictures of him with a good friend of mine, T.

Since I didn’t know Mr. Agency well, I decided to do a bit of reconnaissance. (With surgery less than a week away and treatment on the horizon, I didn’t need to date my usual narcissistic and controlling types.) As it turned out, T has known Mr. Agency for almost a decade and had nothing but great things to say about him. My friend, Misty, also concurred with T’s assessment. I felt comforted by the fact that the seemingly warm and genuine guy that I had met at the party was just that!

On Wednesday night, I arrived at the event and tried to look as sexy as I could in the 94-degree heat. I said hello to some acquaintances before greeting Mr. Agency at the back bar. He approached me with a huge smile, a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was with a colleague so we exchanged pleasantries about sports and politics. Our conversation was easy, and I found myself smiling – a lot.

Mr. Agency and I thankfully managed to have a fair amount of one-on-one time at the event. The topic turned to summer vacations, and he asked if I was heading out of DC at all.

Me: Well, not this summer. I’m not sure if you saw on Facebook that I have breast cancer.

Mr. Agency: I did. Will you be okay?

Me: Yes. Everything was caught early, but I need a little surgery next week and then I’ll start treatment.

We talked for another minute or two about it, and that was it. There had been a part of me that was hesitant to share what was going on with a man I didn’t know well, but I realized that it didn’t need to be a big deal.

As the moon illuminated the rooftop and the drinks kept flowing, Mr. Agency and I talked and laughed with a few friends. One of them brought up my blog and how she hadn’t expected it to be so racy.

Me [laughing]: I’ve heard that before. Misty and I were at L2 one time, and these people were like, ‘How racy is it?’ Misty looked at them without blinking an eye and said, ‘I've learned a lot about anal from City Girl.’ They were speechless!

Mr. Agency laughed with the group, but it was far from the right time to ask him if he enjoyed anal as much as I did ;). I wasn’t sure if he had looked at my blog before this evening, but I had to assume that he would check it out now. And, although I hoped that he didn’t rush home to read about every past sexcapade, I was fine with him knowing about my site.

T and I decided to head out to get some food. Before we left, Mr. Agency came up to me and said:

It was great seeing you tonight, but I hope that we can hang out alone next time. Are you around this weekend?

Me [smiling]: Yes, I am. I’d like that.

Mr. Agency: Good. I’ll call you.

As T and I drove to Marvin, I received a text from Mr. Exec’s best friend, Best Boy. (We had been texting each other earlier since he had been considering coming to the rooftop event.)

I found myself at the Masquerade Party without a mask or the proper attire, but that didn’t stop me from having a fabulous night! I was all smiles after meeting Model Boy, and I looked forward to getting to know him better as the evening progressed.

Given the crowd, it crossed my mind that Best Boy, Mr. Exec’s best friend, might enjoy the after-party. (Now, normally birds of a feather flock together, but Best Boy is as kind as Mr. Exec is selfish. Best Boy and I had never gone out on a date since our dinner at Ceiba with Mr. Exec, but we had kept in touch. While I was still seeing Mr. Exec, Best Boy and I continued to text each other and even met up for drinks one night. Best Boy stayed out of the drama with Mr. Exec, and I regarded him as a friend.)

Me [to Autumn]: What’s Best Boy up to tonight?

Autumn: I’m not sure.

Me: I wonder if he’s at another event near here. Should we text him to see if he wants to swing by for the after-party?

Autumn texted Best Boy, and then we returned to our conversation with Sally and some other girlfriends. (You might recall that Sally was on the receiving end of one of Mr. Exec’s drunk and belligerent tirades at the bar.) I always enjoyed running into Sally at events since she was very nice and we had worked in similar fields. I figured she knew that Mr. Exec and I had dated, but we never directly discussed that. So, I tried not to let it catch me off guard when she said:

I texted Mr. Exec and told him that he should come.

Me [trying to keep a calm tone to my voice since I really didn’t want to see Mr. Exec so soon after our last evening together]: Oh. Is he on his way?

Sally: No. Once he heard some of the political bigwigs who were here, he didn’t want to. You know how he gets if he’s not the center of attention.

Autumn and I just nodded our heads in agreement. When Sally got up off the couch, Autumn and I laughed out loud. Sally had summed up Mr. Exec perfectly!

A few minutes later, I noticed a man, standing near our group. He was 6’2” with a medium black complexion and a build that was thick without being too thick. His beautiful smile lit up not just his face, but also the room. As I watched him, I realized how many people came up to him to say hello. He looked familiar, and yet, I knew that we had never formally met. When he smiled at me and walked over to the couch, I rose and introduced myself. He replied:

It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mr. Agency.

I tried to piece together who he was, and then it hit me! He worked for the Administration and was a regular fixture on the charity and political circuits in town. We talked for several minutes about the event, how I wasn’t wearing the proper attire, and how we felt like we had a lot of mutual friends in common. (Facebook would later reveal that number of friends as 70!)

Mr. Agency: You don’t seem like the typical person to come to an event like this.

Me: Because I’m not a political groupie?

Mr. Agency [smiling]: Exactly.

Me: Well, I like politics, but I’m not here with an agenda.

Mr. Agency: I can tell. [A woman approaches him and asks if he’ll take a picture with her. He excuses himself and does that before returning to me.] We should get a photo together. Mind asking your friend to take one?

We talked for a few more minutes before Mr. Agency handed me his card, telling me to stay in touch. I definitely planned on doing so!

I headed into the back room and found Model Boy with several of my friends. (As it turned out, he and Sally already knew each other.)

While we were all talking, Best Boy arrived. Autumn and I caught up with Best Boy before he and Model Boy began to chat. It didn’t surprise me that the two guys hit it off famously, as they have very similar personalities.

Autumn: Did they [Model Boy and Best Boy] just exchange cards?

Me: I think so.

Autumn: What’s Mr. Exec going to say if he hears that you were hanging out with Model Boy?

Me: I don’t know. But, he had his chance and blew it. That’s not my problem.

Autumn: True.

When the clock hit two in the morning, it was late, and I was tired so I was ready to head home. But, would the night end there?

The middle of July found me wondering if Mr. Exec and I could work in any capacity. My uncertainty about what I wanted from Mr. Exec was put on the back burner, though, when I received a call from my breast surgeon.

A second area of cancer had been found. There wasn’t a question that I would beat this, but a Stage One diagnosis at age 37 typically requires chemotherapy. I also needed to have two more areas biopsied before surgery and treatment.

Although Mr. Exec and I texted for hours on end between my updated diagnosis and surgery, we never ended up seeing each other. He claimed he was focused on work, but I knew it was more than that. In his mind, I had insulted him by saying that we weren’t friends and that I didn’t value him outside of his abilities in bed. (And, yes, I appreciate how ironic it was that Mr. Exec felt insulted by my behavior.) I also tried to change our relationship mode, and a control freak like Mr. Exec will never comply with terms that he doesn’t set himself.

Somewhat surprisingly, I felt neither bad nor sad that I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. Yes, I missed the rush from sex with Mr. Exec, but I didn’t miss the drama, the games or the disrespect.

My vulnerabilities did come into play on the day of my surgery, though. I found myself back at Sibley Hospital with three procedures before the actual surgery. As I sat in the waiting room, I recalled when Mr. Exec had left me a voicemail during my first set of biopsies, claiming that we would get through this all together. And, then, I received a text from Mr. Exec that he was praying for me and hoped my surgery went well.

As I moved from procedure to procedure, Mr. Exec and I continued to text each other. Our conversation provided a good diversion from the day's events, but it was also unsettling. Mr. Exec insisted that he would have been there for me at the hospital, but for the fact that I wouldn’t let him. Given how his words have never reconciled with his actions, that didn’t make sense. But, sitting in a hospital gown being poked and prodded, I wasn’t able to see the situation that clearly at the time.

Following the surgery, Mr. Exec texted me several times to see how I was doing. I definitely needed some help so I inquired as to whether I would be seeing him at all that week. His response: I hope so.

Three days after my surgery, he called to check on me. I had assumed that he would be going to an event downtown with some of our mutual friends, but he informed me that he had work to do that evening.

The following morning, I went on Facebook and saw that Mr. Exec’s work consisted of attending a friend’s birthday dinner and drinks. (I guess we all define “work” differently.) I proceeded to shake my head and roll my eyes at my laptop.

Mr. Exec texted me every day for the next three days to see how I was feeling. I didn’t respond since I had nothing to say. It simply wasn't worth trying to care about someone who didn't care about anyone but himself.

After not hearing back from me, Mr. Exec called me on August 9th.

Mr. Exec: Good morning. How are you?

Me: Okay. Thanks.

Mr. Exec: I’ve texted you several times to see how you were doing, but I never heard back from you. I’ve been worried about you.

Me: I’m good. Just recouping.

We repeated a similar conversation two more times since Mr. Exec was trying to figure out why I had ignored him.

Me: I honestly wasn’t sure how to respond to your texts. You had told me that you would try to stop by to check on me and that you weren’t going to the event last week because of work. And, then I see that you went to a friend’s birthday.

Mr. Exec: Umm…where did you see that?

Me: On Facebook.

Mr. Exec: But, you unfriended me…

Me: Yes, but we still have friends in common. [Pause.] It’s fine if you didn’t want to come by, but I’m not really sure why you just didn’t tell me the truth.

Mr. Exec [raising his voice slightly]: I called you to ask how you were doing. I didn’t call about this kind of ‘fluff.’

Me [chuckling]: So…you lying to me is fluff?

Mr. Exec [raising his voice a little more]: Yes, it is! I don’t need to explain myself or what I do to anyone!

Me [in a slightly sarcastic tone]: Oh, I know you don’t.

Mr. Exec: Are you being sarcastic?

Me: Yes, I am.

Mr. Exec: I called to find out how you were! I don’t need to be bothered with this.

Me: Well, you wanted to know why I didn't text back so I'm telling you.

Mr. Exec [raising his voice even more]: You didn't respond to me because of that? That's ridiculous!

Me: Not to me. I'm actually on my way to an appointment, though, so we might just need to agree to disagree. Hope you have a good day.

Mr. Exec [pausing]: You, too. [Pause.] Goodbye then.

Me: Bye.

That was the last time I spoke to Mr. Exec. There was nothing more to say, and it was time for me to devote my energy to kicking cancer’s ass! I had assumed that I would be doing that with my friends by my side and without a man in my life.

As luck would have it, though, only the first part of that sentence is true ;).

I receive quite a few sex and relationship questions via Formspring, but it’s been a while since I’ve posted my answers to them. (Damn chemo!) I figured that I would get back to doing so in between my posts about Mr. Exec. I also have a great giveaway that I’ll be sharing with you all this evening.

Question 1a: With my ex-girlfriend, I could have sex for as long as I wanted. With my current girlfriend, I can't last as long. Insights on why that's so?

Answer: What's different with the equation? The foreplay? The positions? How wet or orgasmic your partner is? How often you have sex?

Has your current girlfriend indicated that this is a problem? (I've dated guys who take a long time and guys who cum very quickly. As long as I'm satisfied, I'm okay with either mode.)

Question 1b: Nothing has really changed. Same positions usually. Wetness same. She hasn't voiced a concern; this is more for making it better (not that it was bad). I just don't know why anything is different.

Answer: Have you tried a sexual enhancement gel or herb? (If you or your partner has sensitive skin or allergies, it’s best to stick to herbs over gels. With respect to herbal products, herbs have yet to be approved by the FDA, although they are commonly used in Eastern medicine.)

You could also add a cock ring to increase pressure to the base of your cock and keep your erection for longer. They stimulate the clitoris during sex, making it much easier for the female to orgasm.

You also might try switching positions often to break the rhythm that you're in so that you can last longer. (Some women love changing positions a lot. Some don't. The effectiveness of that strategy might depend on your partner.)

Good luck!

So, readers, did I miss anything? Do you have any other suggestions for this guy?

I had thought that June 22, 2010 would be a memorable day in my life because that was the day I had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Now, I wondered if I would also remember it as the most bizarre day I had ever spent with Mr. Exec.

I had just watched him grab another woman's ass repeatedly right in front of me. Then, I listened to him explain that he did that for "business reasons." I found his actions completely disrespectful, but I didn't have the energy to get into a fight with him. I knew that we would eventually need to discuss all of this, but now was not the time.

I decided to focus on other, more innocuous matters, when I asked Mr. Exec:

So how did The Baron end up here tonight? [The Baron and I went to law school together, and we dated briefly earlier this year. Mr. Exec knew The Baron professionally and despised him because of his allegedly shady business practices.]

Mr. Exec: I know! I didn't expect to see him here!

Me: I’m sure you had to restrain yourself from kicking his ass! [We laugh.]

Mr. Exec: I didn’t realize that you had dated him. You said that you just knew him from law school!

Me: I told you that we had gone out to dinner a few times. That's all.

Mr. Exec: Did you fuck him? [I look at him with a confused expression on my face.] Did you?

Me: No. Never. We went out a few times before I realized that he was coke addict. [As we're talking, I put two and two together that Mr. Exec has been reading my blog.] Everything that happened is in my blog.

Mr. Exec: Good. I hate the thought of you with him.

Me: I don't like the thought of it either. Trust me!

We got into his SUV to head to the other restaurant. Three of his friends piled in the back seat. I was feeling quite dizzy because I needed food. I also was exhausted and had absolutely no patience for how drunk everyone else in the car was.

When we arrived at the bar, the bartender informed us that the kitchen was closed. Thankfully, my friend, Misty, happened to be dining there and gave me the rest of her food.

I sat with Misty, as Mr. Exec and his friends took the tables around us. One girl asked where everyone was heading afterwards, and another girl suggested Camelot, a strip club in the neighborhood. I heard Mr. Exec indicate that he wanted to do that, even mentioning that he and Best Boy should try to get their usual table. [Insert eye roll here.]

A few minutes later, Mr. Exec asked me if I wanted to go to Camelot. I politely declined without stating the obvious:

I have breast cancer. I don't know my treatment plan yet and if I can keep my own breasts. The LAST thing I want to do tonight is go to a strip club and look at other girls' tits.

Mr. Exec: I’ll go for a little and then come back to the house.

Me: Okay.

Mr. Exec: I’m so proud of you for coming out tonight! [He kisses me on the lips.] See…look what you have me doing? I'm kissing you in public in front of my friends. [Mr. Exec hates public displays of affection so that was actually a big deal for him.]

He insisted on putting me in a cab and gave the driver double the fare.

Mr. Exec [to the driver]: Make sure you drive very slowly and don’t stop short. [With my Post-Concussion Syndrome, I get very bad motion sickness.] Take very good care of her and make sure she gets home safely.

By the time I arrived home, I felt too drained to ponder or cry about the incredibly odd end to an already tough day. (Seriously, folks, what kind of guy goes to a strip club on the night that his girl is diagnosed with cancer? Oh, and don't even get me started on how Mr. Exec grabs asses for professional reasons!)

I walked my dog and went to bed. An hour later, Mr. Exec texted to say that he was on his way to my place.

I said nothing to Mr. Exec since it wasn’t worth it. I went up to his best friend, Best Boy, to tell him that I was leaving.

Best Boy: Don’t go. We’re going to get some food.

Me: I thought we were going to do that, too. I just can’t sit here and watch this tonight of all nights. Did he [Mr. Exec] tell you what’s going on? [Best Boy nods.] Yeah, I’m out. [I kiss Best Boy on the cheek goodbye.]

I walked out of the restaurant and called my friend, Autumn. I had just finished telling her what happened when another call came in. It was Mr. Exec. I put Autumn on hold and answered the phone.

Mr. Exec: Come back to the restaurant.

Me: Not if I’m going to have you watch you grab some girl’s ass all night!

Mr. Exec: We’re a team. This is business. I don’t want to have to worry about you walking out on me again. Come back here.

Me: Business?!? Are you fucking kidding me?

Mr. Exec: It's business. I’ll explain it to you when you come back here.

I was hungry, tired and so drained from the day’s events. I didn’t want to get into a fight tonight.

Me: Fine.

I hung up with Mr. Exec and finished my call with Autumn. By the time I returned to the restaurant, Mr. Exec and the older woman were wrapping up their conversation. After the woman left, Mr. Exec came over to me and said:

Me: I realize that we have a unique relationship, but don’t ever do something like that again in front of me. That was completely disrespectful!

Mr. Exec: Did you see her? Would I ever be with someone who looked like that?

Me: Okay. Then why did you grab her ass five times?

Mr. Exec: It’s business! She was one of the sponsors tonight. I need her to think that I’ll fuck her so that she keeps helping us out. She invites me to her house and on trips with her all the time, but I never go. I’m with you, and we’re a team. You need to understand that I’m just playing the game.

I didn't think that was fair to the woman or the organization with which Mr. Exec volunteered. But, I decided to let it go because my need for food trumped my need to belabor this issue.

As Mr. Exec settled up his tab, he turned to me, Best Boy and Best Boy’s friend, Melanie* and said:

On Saturday night, why don’t you two come over the house? We’ll get some wine and order some food from…[He turns to me.] What’s that place that we like with the good pizza?

Me: Luigi’s?

Mr. Exec: Yes. We’ll order food, maybe get a DVD and talk some business. [I realize at that point that “the house” is in fact “my house.”]

Me: What business?

Mr. Exec: Well, Melanie does something similar to your blog, and when I heard that, I thought it would be good if we all talked to see if there were things that we all could do together.

Me: Professionally?

Mr. Exec: Yes, of course. You know it’s all about making money for me.

Me [laughing out loud]: Yes, I do. But, I’m not sure if you’ll like how I plan to give 10% of whatever I earn from my blog to female-focused charities.

Mr. Exec: Well, you can give 10% of your portion away. We don’t have to do that.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure how I felt about involving Mr. Exec in the business aspects of my blog. I also was uncertain how Melanie and Best Boy fit into the picture, especially since I didn't know what Melanie did professionally. But, I didn’t need to figure that out tonight.

I thought that we would all grab a quick bite and then Mr. Exec and I would head back to my place. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out as planned.

To be continued…

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.